


Fox Teeth

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bratty Lucio, Dominant Reader, M/M, Praise Kink, Submissive Lucio, amab reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 09:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: You attempt to tame Lucio, your bratty sub, with the tools of patience and praise, and it goes to plan. Sort of.(AMAB reader, he/him pronouns used)





	Fox Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon request on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights).

Friday nights were your favourite time to bring Lucio to his knees.

Friday night was _party_ night, and as much as you enjoy him when he is obeying your every whim and command, you can never pass up the chance to make him delightfully pouty and a little too bratty by keeping him away from the glowing lights and gallons of alcohol—or, if you want him _extra_ bratty, keeping him away from his own party downstairs, where his guests would be showering him with praise and love.

Here, kneeling at the foot of the bed, hands held in his lap, leather collar snug against his throat, he must earn the praise—and with him so pouty and irritated, his wicked little tongue so sharp and ready to talk back, he really must work hard for it.

But you are patient, so very patient, and will spend all night—until sunrise, if you must—teaching him to say those words, to use his _asking words_, and not to bite back when you ask something of him.

Like he is now.

“What did I ask you to do?” You murmur into his ear. He exhales, and you know without even leaning around his body that he has rolled his eyes at you. Quietly, you make a note to add to his spanks when you get to them.

“Well?” You prompt again. You pull your fingers through his hair, waiting patiently for his answer, knowing it will take him at least a few more moments before he bites out his response.

And he doesn’t disappoint, his answer coming with a haughty, vaguely mocking tone. “To put my hands behind my head.”

“And?”

He growls. “Sit still.”

“And?”

“‘_And_’!” Lucio mocks back, his voice much higher than yours really is. “And I did! Both of those things, I did _both_, okay?”

You make a thoughtful noise and pull your hand away from his head. He keens at the loss, turning his head to try and find you again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak ‘attitude’,” you tut. “Perhaps you could translate for me?”

Your gentle tone seems to soothe him, at least for the moment, and he shifts on his knees. The plush rug beneath them is more than he deserves, but it is the little luxuries that will bring out his submissive side and soothe the brat, that will coax him into listening to you more and more as the night wears on.

You come to a stop in front of him and crouch down, taking his chin in your hand. He huffs and refuses to look to you, but you wait, and count down in your head, and eventually he does look, unable to keep his gaze from you for very long.

“Will you translate for your Master?” You ask softly. “Help me understand what you’re saying, so I can help you be a good boy. Are you a good boy?”

The almost-praise works. You watch with a growing warmth in your chest as a faint pink flush spreads across his nose, his cheeks, the tips of his ears. The bratty glint in his eyes dims just a little, enough for you to see the curiosity there, the desire for more, the excitement at the possibility of being praised.

Hesitant, he nods at your question, looking between your eyes to see if you will give him more. But you remain silent, waiting for him to answer you.

He only lasts a few moments before he lets out a quiet keen, like a child beginning to whine at their parent about getting an ice cream from the vendor. The sound is high, and it makes your cock twitch, such a delicious and wonderful sound that you long to hear more of but know that you can’t let continue, and _oh_, how that pains you.

“’Yes’ you’re a good boy, or ‘yes’ you will translate your attitude?”

“Yes!” Lucio blurts out, then almost immediately after, “Both.”

“Both what?”

Lucio’s eyes flash, but only for a moment, before he answers quietly, “Yes, Master.”

“Oh, good boy!” You coo to him, tickling your fingers under his chin just the way he likes.

The flush across his cheeks intensifies, and his lips quirk up at the praise, a genuine smile that is so rare on your Count, that reaches his eyes and seems to illuminate his entire face.

“I’m so proud of you for using your words properly,” you tell him. “Now – can you explain to me again, what you said before?”

As Lucio nods, he eyes your hand, as though hoping for a little _more_ reward.

“I meant that…” You grab his chin again as he speaks to turn his gaze back to you, away from your hand, away from the distraction of his reward. “You asked me to do two things and I only did one of them. But I’ll do both now, because I’m…a good boy.”

And he does, lifting his hands to link his fingers behind his head. The action forces him to arch his back just a little, pushing out his battle-scared chest for you to devour with your gaze.

“Now was that so hard?” You purr.

Your hand drops away from his chin and begins tracing the thin white scar along his collarbone, stretching almost the entire length and curving down over his shoulder. You wished you could force him into telling you its story, _any_ of their stories, but even your dominance cannot push that far. It _won’t_ push that far.

“No, Master. It wasn’t,” Lucio answers. And then, the golden words, accompanied by your favourite wicked little glint in his eyes, “I was just being a brat.”

Your lips curl, part-affection, part-cruelty, as you eye him over with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yes, you were. But you’re a good boy now, and good boys get rewarded. Maybe I’ll even let you go back to your party before it finishes.”

You return your hand to his hair, and he melts into your touch, seeming to go catatonic as the shiver of pleasure rolls through his body. His cock, standing hard and impatient against his abdomen, twitches too. A small bead of pre-come has pearled there, just begging to be licked up, to be tasted, to be devoured.

But you won’t touch him. And you won’t let him touch himself. You have praised him, and coaxed him into obeying, but the night is young, and you know you will have to face many more bratty versions of him before you are truly satisfied.

“Now,” you start, an almost cruel purr to your voice. “Why don’t you part those pouting lips so you can show your Master just how sorry you are by sucking his cock? My good boy looks so wonderful when his mouth is full of my cock. And you _are_ a good boy, aren’t you?”

He is nodding before you have even finished speaking, lips parted and ready for your cock.But as you shift to place its head at his lips, a breeze blows the sounds of the city into the room, laughter and chatter and far off music that promises copious amounts of alcohol along with it.

And when these sounds reach his ears, a few things seem shift inside of him. His shoulders roll back. His gaze goes a little cross-eyed as it drops to your cock. His lips shift, stretching just enough to reveal his sharp little canines (they always reminded you of fox teeth), and the tiny gem he insisted looked _so glamorous_ cemented there, winking at everyone when he grinned this very specific grin.

And then he sits back on his feet, putting every inch of distance he can between his lips and your cock.

“No,” he says slowly, the word rolling on his tongue like a purr that matches the cocky curve of his eyebrow, the devious glint in his eyes. “I’m not a ‘good boy’.”

Your lips curve into a soft smile, almost adoring as the brat comes back in full swing.

_Oh_, it’s going to be a long, fun night of breaking your count in


End file.
